Chapter Twenty-Seven (Part Two)
(aka; the one where the shit hits the fan)
AN: So there's triggery stuff in this chapter. Scroll down to the bottom to see the warnings, but they spoil the chapter, so y'know. If the warnings cover any of your triggers, send me a message and I'll summarise what happens in this chapter so you can continue at the next one without missing any crucial info!
but more important than that junk - CIRCUS ARC IS GETTING ANIMATED. AND MYRDER MYSTERY ARC OVA. ayahi takagaki is voicing freckles ahhhh 3 seriously, people need to come talk to me about this because i have like 4.5 friends who actually talk to me about kuroshitsuji. like message me on here or on tumblr or shit man i'll give you my skype or whatsapp or anything, just come scream about circus arc with me!
now back to your regularly scheduled au~
A deal was struck between the Trancy man and the care home. Jim and Luka became Trancys by name, their records changed, their lives uprooted. Those roots would never quite find the grounding they needed, even after they were long gone from Trancy's hands.
Objectively, Jim was one of the luckier ones of the children sold on from the home. Compared to the others, he spent only a short time near Trancy, and the rest was spent in company he much preferred. Even so, Trancy was about as monstrous as human beings got, and cowardly just the same. He had only two desires and he used the children to satisfy both.
Their time with him was short, but no less foul.
Trancy's home was an echo back to the old manor houses and grand estates from years gone by. Back then, he probably would have had a title. As it was, he had enough money to take the place of a title, so he was as untouchable by authorities as any Lord would have been.
But such a large estate meant it was only too easy for the children to hide. Even Trancy's staff, with years of familiarity of the place, struggled to find them when they disappeared.
And disappear they did.
Just like back at the home, every time something bad happened, every time they had to be near Trancy, every time their bodies ached in a way a child should never know, Jim and Luka would vanish. That giant house had so many rooms, so many nooks and crannies, and when they tired of searching for those, there was the garden.
To them, it seemed more like a forest, the kind they read about in the few books they had been permitted to read. Stretches of perfect green, white paved paths edged with a myriad of blossoming colours, trees so tall they seemed to brush the sky. Even at night it didn't frighten them, as chillingly dark as it became. After all, what monsters could lurk within those trees that were any worse than the monster waiting for them back at the house?
And on the other side of that child's forest waited Claude.
Just as he had promised, Trancy's successful purchase of them did nothing to dissuade him. Only a day after Jim and Luka themselves had arrived, Claude located the place, found easy ways inside the grounds, showed them how to get to the other side of the trees. And without fail, every time they could escape Trancy and his staff, every time they broke through the trees, Claude was waiting there for them.
Dependable was not a concept Jim had known before then. But with each meeting, almost every other day, Claude's presence in his life began to eclipse the cynicism, the doubt, the hatred of all who could be considered adults.
Even Luka, wary after the tea incident, began to warm to Claude. Despite Claude's admittance that he had no interest in Luka, he was still kind, supplying a gift for Luka to match any gift he brought for Jim. Every time he saw that, the warmth that had come to life in Jim that day would swell until there was no keeping the smile from his face.
And Claude always returned the smile, without fail.
Those moments in the forest became the reason Jim got out of bed in the morning. They pulled him through the hours with Trancy. They calmed him after the nightmares that dragged him towards waking in a cold sweat. They gave him the strength to hold Luka when Luka needed it, even if the touch was the last thing he wanted in that moment. And when Luka made mistakes, the foolish mistakes that every child makes, the memory of those moments and the anticipation of more gave Jim the courage to take the blame, to endure the punishment, and to pull himself back together in the aftermath.
But by the fifth month since arriving at the Trancy home, Luka's mistakes became more and more extreme. Jim had to wonder if somewhere along the way they had become intentional. Was Luka lashing out at their keepers, in full knowledge that Jim would unfailingly take the blame? It was a treacherous thought but one that niggled at him nonetheless.
At first it was small things like stumbling into one of the expensive vases or knocking a plate of food onto the bear-skin rug Trancy was so proud of. Those were accidents, Jim had no doubt. Luka was not so good an actor as to be able to fake such fright.
As the fourth month shifted into the fifth, however, Luka's clumsiness was becoming immense. He barely seemed able to coordinate his legs anymore. He was useless at holding anything, too. Instead of asking him, it was easier to just cut out the middle man and toss the thing on the floor yourself.
Jim's understanding could only stretch so far when, for everything Luka broke, he was the one who got a hiding for it. But he choked that growing resentment down as best as he could, hiding it under the memories of his latest meeting with Claude.
The fear of losing Claude's interest was beginning to diminish. Jim knew now that he was no passing fancy. Five months of meetings, of conversations and kindness, all while expecting nothing in return. Claude was someone to be trusted, Jim could let himself believe that. Claude had earned at least that much.
And sometime then, during that fifth month, the scales of Jim's heart tipped. One beating too many, another of Luka's mistakes, and the weight shifted as the resentment he had done so well to not let himself feel began to swell.
Claude's presence eclipsed Luka's, without Jim being conscious of it.
They had always gone to see Claude together, but that day, Jim was restless. He couldn't keep still as he sat in their bedroom, waiting for Luka to come back from Trancy. It was taking so much longer than usual. It was already a good hour past the time they usually went to the forest.
Claude would wait for them, wouldn't he? But they didn't come to meet him every day. Maybe Claude would assume they weren't coming. Maybe he would leave. It had already been almost a week since Jim had last been able to see him. He might think Jim had gotten bored of him and would stop coming altogether.
Jim bolted from the room. Without Luka's slower steps, he made it to the other end of the trees in half the time. His heart stopped for a moment when the slim stretch of grass was empty, his worst fear realized, but then he saw that retreating back.
'Claude!'
Claude turned, nodded a greeting, waited for Jim to reach him.
'I'm sorry - I tried to get away sooner, but,' Jim panted, mouth swimming and throat sore from the run.
'Alone?' Claude looked behind him, over to the trees. No one else burst through as Jim had done. There was a pang in Jim's chest as he shook his head, but the guilt was quickly forgotten when Claude shook his car keys, 'Would you like to go for a drive?'
Jim was surprised when the car wasn't some fancy sports thing. It was just a regular three-door car, in all its dull silver glory. Impeccable inside, of course, not a single bit of rubbish littering the seats or floor. There were a few files on the back seat, plain manila folders with a logo emblazoned on the bottom right corner.
'What're they?' Jim asked, unable to keep the smile from his face. There was no need to fight smiling anymore. He knew Claude liked to see it.
'I'm on leave from work for the time being, but I like to keep up to date with what's going on,' Claude replied, pulling out of the country lane carefully, the main road very busy at this time of the day.
'Can we listen to the radio?'
'Of course.'
Claude kept the volume low, a comfortable hum as they talked.
'So what is your job anyway? You've been on leave for ages. Won't you get in trouble for slacking off?'
'Six months isn't that long when you're older,' Claude replied, 'I'm a psychiatrist at a mental health facility. Those are the files of a few of my patients. It's ... not the best for them, my being away, but it can't be helped. I'm technically still at work, I'm just not working from my office.'
Jim couldn't stop grinning. Claude was talking so much more now that they were alone than he ever did when Luka was with them. To learn more about him, to be spending time just the two of them, the memory of this day would carry Jim through whatever Trancy had up his sleeve.
'Cool! So do you, like, do those ink blots and stuff?' That was the extent of Jim's knowledge of psychiatry. He wished he could say more, sound more knowledgeable, impress Claude with how much he knew.
'No, I'm not a fan of the Rorschach tests. The results are unreliable even with cooperative patients, and my patients are far from cooperative.'
Jim frowned, 'Why, don't they wanna get better?'
For some reason, that made Claude smile.
'I suppose not.'
A song Jim vaguely recognised came on the radio. He sang along, blaring out the words he knew, humming along when he didn't. Beyond the window, countryside turned to town turned to city centre turned to countryside once more, until the blue of the sky began to touch the blue of the sea.
They spoke all the while. Insignificant things. Favourite songs and colours, exactly why did Jim hate fish so much, funny anecdotes from Claude's work. Significant things too. How much time Claude had left before he had to go back to his work properly, what Jim wanted to do with his future, whether they could just keep driving and never stop.
They did stop, pulling into a car park only yards from the beach. It was a chilly day despite the sunshine, the red flag billowing for high tide. Even so, the pier-head was bustling, families with young children, groups of friends, school trips all making the most of that rare bit of sun.
They had come so far from Trancy's manor. How long had they been gone? The guilt resurfaced when Claude bought Jim some ice cream. Yet he couldn't be unhappy. Not today. Not when Claude was treating him like the only person in the world who mattered.
'Are you worried about me going back to work?' Claude asked, voice low in the busy cafe. He was being cautious, but Jim didn't see any need for that. They were doing nothing wrong, after all, and no one seemed suspicious of the adult and child who bore no physical resemblance to each other. People chose not to see things like that, Jim had found.
Jim smiled, like he had told himself he would.
'It's okay, I understand you won't be able to come see us when you do.'
Claude stared at him until he dropped the act.
'I promised I'd help you disappear. Don't think I forgot about that,' Claude said, leaning on the table, 'But you can't disappear until I do. Just bear with this for a little while longer.'
'Luka,' Jim wet his lips, lowering the ice cream cone, 'I can't leave him behind. Will you take him too?'
'If that's what you want,' Claude replied, and Jim's heart soared.
What he had wanted had never mattered to anyone before.
The drive back was even better than the drive down, regardless of the impending destination. That certainty, that promise, it blasted away any of the lingering doubts Jim had held. He had only ever given those two things to Luka, but that day, Jim gave what love and trust he had left to give over to Claude.
'I'll try to get away again soon,' Jim promised at the mouth of the trees.
'Look after yourself,' Claude said, as he always did.
The happiness had Jim fit to burst. He legged it back to his and Luka's bedroom, dying to tell Luka the good news. Their freedom guaranteed, their future a blank canvas for them to paint upon as they chose. He was more careless than usual, almost running right into one of Trancy's members of staff, but he got to the bedroom safely.
Only to find it empty.
The bed sheets were unrumpled, the drawers not left half open as they usually were after Luka rifled through them. The room was just as Jim had left it.
His stomach fell.
A knock at the door.
'Mr. Trancy is asking for you.'
They know.
They know.
They know.
That was the only thing Alois could think about. Luka dogged his steps as he entered the ward, muttering something of his own, or maybe he was saying the same thing. It was hard to differentiate anymore.
They know.
They know.
They know!
'Alois?' A voice broke through the hum. Soma stood before him, blocking his way to his bedroom. He was frowning, watching him with mistrust. Could he hear those words? How could he not? It was so loud. The fear was so loud.
'Hey, are you okay? You're white as a sheet,' Soma said, but his voice was mocking. He was laughing at Alois. That's what the look on his face was. Not mistrust but enjoyment.
'Leave me alone,' Alois managed to spit out, having trouble actually making his words verbal. There were so many words in his head, he didn't want to accidentally say those instead. Luka wouldn't stop chunnering away to himself either, but Alois couldn't make out what it was he was saying. When he focused, tried to hear, it just made his head throb.
'Soma, leave it.' Joker was there now. He was glaring at Alois. It was more than mistrust.
Hate.
It was hate, wasn't it?
The rest of them too. They were all stopping to stare.
They had the same eyes as Joker. Every single one of them.
Hate, hate, hate, hate, it was everywhere.
Luka's muttering grew louder but no more understandable.
Soma shrugged off Joker's hand, advancing on Alois. He backed away but there was nowhere else for him to go. All around were the other patients, circling around him, their hateful eyes at every turn.
'Did something happen?' Soma asked, the charade of worry so thick it was laughable, 'Are you okay?'
Soma was backing him up against the wall. There was nowhere Alois could go to escape. They had ambushed him too close to the ward door, boxed him in, must have planned to do just that. His head was swimming in the panic, in the rhythmic hum of Luka's chant.
Soma reached out his hand and Alois snapped.
'Oi!'
'Fuckin' hell.'
'Get off him!'
Hands descended from every angle, the circle closing in on him even more. Soma's eyes were laughing, bulging, streaming tears of mirth as Alois pressed his thumbs in against the gristle of his throat. His bursts of air sounded like the most hysterical laughter, every choking gasp that managed to slip past Alois' fingers one more twist of the knife.
'Shut up, just shut up!' Alois didn't realize it was him saying that until he was booted in the chest, had his own air stolen from him momentarily. Joker didn't waste any time after dislodging Alois, grabbing Soma around the shoulders with his one good arm and hauling him as far from Alois as he could manage.
Jumbo shoved Alois back against the wall when he tried to get up, holding him there without even looking at him. The rest were swarming around Soma, fussing at him, arguing over getting the staff. The hate in their eyes only grew stronger every time they looked over at Alois.
Alois struggled pointlessly against Jumbo, almost as breathless as Soma.
Bedroom doors opened and the few who hadn't been in the leisure room came out to see what the noise was about. More spectators, more loathing sent Alois' way. He shrivelled under the weight of it, curling in on himself as though it wouldn't be able to touch him if only he made himself small enough.
'No, don't -'
'Just leave it, mate.'
Footsteps stopped in front of him. Soma again? The others come to attack, to punish him? Alois made himself even smaller, back straining.
'Oi,' Ciel bent down to try to meet his eyes, 'What have I told you about playing nice?'
Luka's muttering picked up again. Alois hadn't realized it had even stopped. It was a vicious little whisper, the hissing of a snake.
'Smile, c'mon, leave him alone,' Joker had come back over, had placed his foot between Ciel and Alois. He was tensed up, ready to get in the middle again if he needed to, 'He don't wanna talk to anyone, he's made that clear.'
'No, he doesn't want to talk to Soma or you, that's all he's made clear,' Ciel replied, not even bothering to look up at Joker. He wasn't going to touch him, Alois realised, but he was close enough to Alois that he could feel his breath. Ciel never got that close, or at least, he never used to.
'Soma's fine, you just spooked him a bit,' Ciel raised his voice a bit, 'Isn't that right, Soma?'
Soma called over, voice gravelly, 'Yeah!'
Alois couldn't hear any anger but he knew it was there. Soma just wouldn't show it in front of Ciel. He'd always been good at playing nice in front of Ciel, so that Alois always looked like the bad guy.
Luka's muttering took it up a notch in volume. His words were becoming clearer. They were the same as before, the same thing he had been saying before Alois attacked Soma.
'See, no need to worry -'
'No need to worry?! He fuckin' attacked him! Soma was just tryin' to be nice!' Was that Dagger? There was undeniable anger there. Hostility. The potential to attack. Alois pulled his knees in closer. He couldn't become small enough to be safe no matter how hard he tried.
Ciel ignored Dagger, inching lower to try and see Alois' face between his limbs.
'Jim?' When was the last time anyone had called him that? Ciel never used that name unless things were really bad. Oh god, he'd fucked up. Why was Ciel even talking to him? They didn't talk anymore, not since Ciel had gotten what he wanted, had stolen Claude away once and for all. Why was he trying to play friends now?
Luka's hiss intensified, 'Hit him!'
No, that's not what he was saying. That can't have been what he was saying when he made Alois attack Soma. Alois wouldn't have gone for the throat, if it had been.
'Jim, it's alright,' Ciel dropped his voice low, so low even Joker would struggle to hear it. Jumbo's hands fell away from Alois' shoulders, presumably at Ciel's behest, 'Look, I'm sorry I haven't been around lately, things got ... Let's go into your room. I'll listen to whatever you have to say.'
Ciel's words began to mute, hazed out by Luka's.
'- him! - him! - him!'
Ciel and Joker both were bowled over as Alois sprung to his feet. He heard them fall, felt their hateful eyes follow him as he ran. Even as his bedroom door slammed shut behind him, Alois couldn't escape the loathing he knew they felt towards him.
People always said that the soul wasn't a physical thing. That it was a concept, a sort of personification of a person's humanity, the essence of their being. It couldn't be harmed, not in a literal sense.
Jim knew differently now. The soul could be hurt. It could be sanded down by the rough edge of hope. It could be chipped away by dishonest promises and the emptiness of Luka's bed.
'Consider this punishment for always hiding,' Trancy had said, 'When you've learnt to behave, I'll allow Luka to come back.'
Alois couldn't remember whether Jim had ever believed Trancy's words. He had never been stupid. Reckless, yes, and stubborn with it, but never truly stupid. A part of him had known as soon as Luka's bed had been empty and the knock had came at the door, but it was too much. The reality of what that empty bed meant was too huge a thing for Jim to acknowledge.
So he obeyed.
No more visits with Claude. No more running and hiding. Only two places existed in Jim's life after that day; Trancy's bedroom and his own. His days consisted of traipsing between the two, of putting aside whatever dignity Claude had helped him recover, and doing as he was told.
The memory of that drive with Claude did nothing to make it easier. The guilt was too strong. What would have happened if he had just waited for Luka, like he should have done? Things would have been different. No, not just different, but better.
Jim abandoned his own bed and began sleeping in Luka's. He wished they had been allowed things, even the smallest trinket, so he could have something of Luka with him. The barest hint of his smell was gone by the first morning.
After a while, maybe a month, maybe more, Jim's guilt began to sour. There was only so long something could fester.
'I want to see Luka,' Jim said after doing what he was told, hoping a tired Trancy would be a more agreeable Trancy.
'Not yet,' Trancy had said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
Jim had skulked away. Far from being discouraged, the refusal only made him more determined.
The next day, the same exchange.
'I want to see Luka.'
'Not today.'
The next day, the same exchange. And the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Trancy's refusals grew less patient, the words varying levels of annoyed. After a week and a half, Trancy's answer was a fist in the teeth. So Jim repeated the question through the blood in his mouth. The next day, Trancy didn't answer at all, pretending he hadn't heard Jim. So Jim shouted, screamed it in his ear, and was thrown through the door.
After a fortnight of that persistent question, Trancy finally snapped.
'If you keep on like this, you'll go the same way he did!'
Jim paused, mouth going dry. He suddenly wanted to stop. No more pushing, no more prodding. If Trancy said anything more, the wilful ignorance that was keeping Jim going would shatter. He knew the truth, he knew, but he couldn't let himself hear it. Then he wouldn't be able to pretend anymore.
Jim went quiet. Trancy did not.
'The both of you, ungrateful. I take you out of that place, I give you beds and food and a roof over your head, and you give me nothing but trouble in return. That little brat couldn't do a single thing right, and you're no better.'
Jim's stomach began to twist, that watery clench he knew only too well. He clamped his hand down over his mouth. It wasn't nausea, though. That became clear as Trancy kept talking.
'It was your fault anyway. Wouldn't have happened if you'd have been where you were supposed to. And the brat just wouldn't tell us where you were. I'm a patient man but even I have my limits. He should have known better than to disobey me.'
Jim's mind betrayed him, running wild with the possibilities. Luka was only small. It wouldn't have taken much. A badly aimed shove into a table corner, maybe. There were so many heavy things in the room too. That thick-based lamp at the bedside, that heavy metal tray or even that steel teapot sat upon it. All of them could have been within Trancy's reach. And Luka wouldn't have even thought of running, of disobeying so outwardly.
Jim's hands shook, heat rising to his face.
'Made a mess of my rug too. Between the money getting the two of you and how much it cost me to get the rug replaced, I'm out a fortune! Neither of you were worth a goddamn penny of it, let me te -'
The end of that sentence was lost in the wet snap of Trancy's jaw fracturing, a spray of spit and blood and even a couple of teeth following the path of the steel teapot. Trancy crashed to the floor with a high moan, the bottom half of his face twisted unnaturally.
His ruined mouth quivered as he tried to shout for his staff, for help. But it was quickly silenced as the teapot was brought down again upon the crown of his head. Again, and again, and again until the top of his head was a mess of blood and hair and clumps of flesh.
Jim didn't stop smashing the teapot into his head until Trancy's body had gone completely still.
Everything was quiet, especially in Jim's head. When he saw the pool of Trancy's blood spread to the replacement rug, a little laugh escaped him. He laughed harder, the teapot falling from his bloodied hands, so hard that his stomach ached and his throat was sore. He laughed until tears streamed from his eyes, until he realised that the laughter was actually screaming.
There were footsteps thundering down the hallway. With a calm he didn't feel, Jim moved to wait by the door. When it opened and two of Trancy's staff members ran in, he slipped past them.
Luka - 'It was your fault anyway' - I'm sorry - 'Wouldn't have happened if you'd have been where you were supposed to be' - I'm so sorry.
Jim didn't realise he had even had a destination until he got there, bursting through the last of the trees into that secret stretch of garden. Even though it had been ridiculous to expect it, his heart still fell when Claude wasn't there.
Of course he wasn't. He had probably stopped coming when Jim had stopped turning up. It had been a month now, maybe two. There was no way he was still coming there, waiting there.
All at once, Jim's energy abandoned him. He fell to the floor. He was shaking all over, wet with sweat and tears and Trancy's blood. The grass was cool beneath him and he pushed down into it, curling up as small as he could go.
Luka, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault.
Everything's my fault.
Please come back.
Please.
Don't leave me all alone.
The sky was dark when he felt a hand touch his shoulder and shake him awake. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. The grogginess had him looking around blearily, what had happened temporarily forgotten. The blood on him had dried, left his skin feeling tight.
'Is it yours?' Claude asked, getting his hands under Jim's arms and hefting him upright.
Jim couldn't understand the question yet. He looked around himself, blinking and confused, unsure why he was there. The only thing he knew was that he shouldn't have been. Trancy didn't allow him to leave the manor. Jim didn't allow himself to leave the manor. Yet there he was, with the one person he didn't allow himself to see anymore.
'Why're you here?' Jim asked. The words felt clumsy as they fell from his mouth. Malformed and mispronounced. God, he was tired. Luka's bed stole more sleep than it gave.
Claude just stared, ignored the question to repeat his own.
'Is what mine?'
'I'll take that as a no then.'
Even without the exhaustion, Jim still wouldn't have been able to follow what was going on. It was like he was hearing only half of the conversation. Adults were always like that, saying only a fraction of what they meant. Claude wasn't usually like that though. He always made sure Jim understood.
Jim began to ask his question again when he felt the uncomfortable tightness pinching at his hands. The exhaustion began to fade, stripped away bit by bit as he looked down at himself.
So much red. The bad kind of red.
'It's alright, Jim.'
Red beyond its expiration date. Red turning to rust.
'Try to calm down.'
New red now, as Jim clawed the rust away, before it could encase him entirely. That's what Trancy wanted, even as he went cold. To lock Jim away. They had reason to now, didn't they? What he had done, it went beyond all the childish mischief he had known before.
Claude took his hands before he could do himself any real damage. The touch pulled him back to the garden, to Claude sat before him. Where Jim was tears and fright, he was calm, composed, somewhere high above it all.
Jim wished he could go there too.
'Tell me what happened,' Claude said. He was holding Jim's hands that bit too tight.
'I didn't - I just,' Jim swallowed hard, squeezing Claude's fingers, 'He killed Luka.'
That was all he could say. It felt like an excuse. Not a day gone by and he was already trying to run away from what he'd done. Cowardly, as always. There had been nothing cowardly about the way he had beaten Trancy's head in. Oh god, he could remember the feeling of bone caving in far too vividly. The strength he had suddenly found, how easily broken Trancy had been, how quickly Trancy's blood had soaked in among the red and gold threads of his rug.
'It's alright,' Claude said, pulling one of his hands free. The skin was blanched from Jim's grip. He cupped the back of Jim's head and pulled him forward against his chest. 'You're going to be fine, I promise.'
Claude stroked gently through Jim's hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. How much of Claude's strength would it take, Jim wondered then, for his own skull to break like Trancy's had?
'Claude,' Jim began to sob against Claude's chest, pushing to get closer, as close as he possibly could, 'Luka, he -'
He couldn't finish the sentence. There were too many ways for it to end. It was just a constant cycle of Luka's name in his head.
Claude murmured soothingly. Jim wasn't even sure what he was saying but just the sound of his voice was enough. The gentle fingers in his hair, the strong grip around his hand, a warm body surrounding his own. It felt safe, even though Jim didn't deserve safety.
'Please,' the plea left him without his permission, nothing but desperation in Jim now, 'Please take me with you. Don't leave me here. Don't leave me on my own! Please!'
Claude pulled lightly on Jim's hair. He was expecting a refusal, a rejection now that Claude knew what he was really like, what he was really capable of. Instead, he was given a kiss. Claude pressed his lips to Jim's forehead, his hand still holding the back of Jim's head.
But it wasn't enough. It was coddling, placating. An adult trying to stop a child's tears.
Jim lunged forward, pushing his mouth against Claude's. It was more a headbutt than a kiss, truth be told, but Jim had never learned how to be gentle in these things.
Claude went still beneath him, utterly unresponsive. Yet he still had his hand in Jim's hair. He could have pulled him away if he wanted to. That was what Jim told himself, anyway, and pressed against him harder. It suddenly seemed the most important thing, to make Claude understand. Claude had to understand how he felt, what Jim was really offering.
Because Claude was all he had in the world now.
Slowly, Claude untensed. It was like a cube of ice melting in water, frigidity turning smooth. Bit by bit, he relaxed against Jim. He squeezed Jim's hand slightly. He began stroking his hair again. And after a heartbreaking hesitation, he returned the kiss.
It was Claude who pulled away, unsurprisingly. As soon as Jim had tried to deepen the kiss, it had ended. Despite it all, Claude looked unaffected. Even as he made his promise, there was no warmth in his eyes.
'Alright. I'll take you somewhere safe.'
Unfortunately, it would be a while before Alois would look back and realize that.
'It's the only way.'
He couldn't feel Luka's hands on his knees, even though he could see them there. They clenched into claws but still there was no sensation of touch. He tried to remember back to the start of all this, to Luka's return. They had hugged, they had held hands, they had slept huddled up beside each other. But had Alois ever actually felt Luka's presence?
'It's the only way to make things how they used to be.'
Had Alois been imagining that warmth all this time? It had seemed so real. He wasn't so far gone as to not know that Luka was only there to him. He knew that. But now it was like Luka wasn't truly there, even to him. To not feel those nails digging into the thick of his thigh. It made his stomach jerk like a sleep kick.
'You don't have to feel bad about it anymore. He was the one who left you first, as soon as he got what he wanted. So it's only fair to do whatever you have to do, to take back what's rightfully yours.'
Alois clamped his hands down over his ears. There was no ambiguity anymore. Luka's demand was ringing loud and clear in his head.
'He likes games, after all. Alls it'll mean is that he lost this one. And you don't start playing games like this if you're not prepared to lose, Jim. Don't you think?'
The more he heard, the more reasonable it began to sound. No, not reasonable. That wasn't the right word. Rather, fair.
'There's only two kinds of people in the world, Jim. People who steal, and people who're stolen from. Which one are you gonna be?'
It all went back to Ciel. Somewhere along the way, without Alois noticing at all, Ciel's name had stopped being synonymous with friend. When Claude stopped being devoted entirely to him? No, not even then. Alois was content with even a fraction of Claude's attention. For years, he had survived on the scraps of love Claude had deigned to toss his way. It was after that, long after that.
If Ciel wasn't a friend anymore, then -
'- he's the enemy!'
Alois jumped, looking down at Luka. Luka's face couldn't seem to decide between a smile or a glare. The result was disturbing, but he couldn't look away for some reason.
Experimentally, Alois opened his mouth. Luka mimicked him.
A cold lick of dread spreading through him, Alois spoke. At the exact same moment that the words left his mouth, Luka spoke too, saying the exact same thing. Perfect unison, something almost harmonious about it.
Before long, Alois lost control of their words.
The roles switched. He became Luka's puppet instead.
'It's Ciel's fault. He wants everything, everyone. It's how he plays. But that's not fair. Claude is all I have. He found us, loved us, took us away from that place. Without him, I'm nothing.'
'Ciel can't have him. He already has everyone else. Why does he need Claude too?'
'Take Claude back. We just need to take Claude back and then everything will be alright again. Without Ciel, Claude will love me again.'
'We just need to -'
Alois bit his tongue, keening at the pain, at the words he had to stop.
It wasn't safe in here. It wasn't safe to be alone with Luka. The room was full of bad thoughts, bad things. They made him bad too.
Away.
He had to get away from them.
Alois pushed up off the floor, his back sliding against the wall to support him. Was Luka gone? He couldn't see him right now. Was that a good or bad thing? It was impossible to tell anymore. In this room, everything was bad.
He had no concept of how much time had passed while in his bedroom. On the ward, it was relatively empty. It was unusual for everybody to be in their bedrooms during the day. Was it curfew already? But his bedroom door was still open.
Alois couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't make sense of anything anymore.
He stumbled against the closed door. His hands were shaking too much to do any more than fumble at the handle.
Footsteps inside. The handle turned beneath his fingers.
No greeting, no explanation. Alois stumbled forward against Ciel, hiding his face against his shoulder. It hurt to bend his neck that far. Had Ciel always been this much smaller than him?
Ciel was still as stone.
Alois waited for the biting remark, the rejecting shove, the cool hard stare.
Hands moved to rest on his shaking shoulders. Far from pushing him away, Ciel gripped Alois tightly, even as he put a bit of distance between their bodies. That was for his own comfort, Alois knew, not a rejection in the least. He let Alois keep his head there, held onto his shoulders tightly, and remained still and silent.
Only when the warning beep of the curfew lock came did Ciel disturb him, guiding him inside his bedroom. The door swung shut and the lock clicked into place.
'Why is it locked?' Alois asked. The silence of the bedroom was so much louder than in the leisure room.
Ciel shifted his feet. He looked more awkward than Alois could remember seeing him in a long time. Because of him, because he was here, invading Ciel's safe place.
'Some of the other patients complained about special treatment,' Ciel replied a beat too late, looking a stranger in his own space, 'Staff decided it was only fair.'
'Oh.'
They stood at the mouth of the room, a space apart. Compared to how close they were moments ago, Alois felt cold, but now that they had spoke, it felt impossible to close the gaping distance between them.
Ciel blew air out of his noise.
'Can I asked what happened with you and Soma before?'
Alois shook his head rapidly, looking down at the floor.
'Ok. Can I ask why you shouted at me the other day in the group session?'
Again, Alois shook his head, fisting his hands in the fabric of his pants.
'Then ... can I ask you what's wrong?'
There weren't enough words left in him to answer that question. So he shook his head again. The exasperation would come now, he knew. Ciel's reserve of patience was never plentiful, especially not with him. A comment sharp enough to cut him to ribbons, and he wouldn't even be able to leave, not now that Ciel's door locked.
Ciel stepped towards him and, after a fumbling hesitation, patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
'That's ... fine.' Alois looked up to see his face. Ciel looked far beyond his comfort zone, that attempt at an encouraging smile turning out as an uncomfortable grimace. He seemed to realise how badly he was doing and promptly gave up, storming over to his bed, cheeks flushed self-consciously. 'If you change your mind, just talk. Looks like you're staying the night anyway.'
By the time Claude made good on his promise of somewhere safe, Jim Macken no longer existed. The few files that carried that name disappeared. As did the ones carrying the name Jim Trancy. That child, that identity, it slowly dissolved over the weeks following Trancy's death, until no trace could be found.
Not that anyone was looking.
The new name was chosen at random. Claude asked him who he wanted to be, and overcome with the possibilities, he had picked up a book, closed his eyes and pointed.
Alois.
Claude had given him a vacant smile, told him it was a nice name, then went back to filling in the endless paperwork that seemed to come part and parcel with giving Alois a new life.
All of Claude's smiles were vacant now. Alois shrugged it off as stress.
The interlude had him in a Travel Lodge. It had been disappointing at first, some part of him assuming Claude would take him to his own home, but that was short lived. As small and economic as the room was, it was clean, comfortable, and that large metal lock on the door was the most beautiful sight Alois had ever seen.
There was a T.V and a private little bathroom and a queen size bed all to himself. Claude brought him a few books - he pretended to have enjoyed them, but found them too dull to get beyond even the first few pages - and a handful of films - he didn't have to pretend to enjoy those - and even stayed for a few nights.
Nothing happened those nights, despite Alois' certainty. Even though he knew he should have been disappointed, there was nothing but relief when Claude kept to his own side of the bed. That relief encouraged him, had him crossing the invisible line himself to curl up closer. And nothing more.
Looking back, there were signs he knew he should have seen. All that paperwork for Alois, all in the same manila file Claude said was from work. The impossibility of coincidence, of Claude miraculously appearing the night Trancy died, somehow knowing. The lilac-eyed woman, seemingly always working a shift at the Travel Lodge, always tending to Alois' room, without a single day off.
None of it clicked. He had no reason to suspect a thing.
'You'll be there too, right?' was all Alois had to say when Claude finally told him just where it was they were going. He had been so stupid, to just accept it, to not even consider the implications of what was happening. That single-minded fixation blinded him to what it meant to be going to St. Victoria's Institute.
'Of course,' Claude replied with that same vacant smile, 'This way, we can stay together.'
And that had been all Alois needed to hear. Being checked in, meeting the other staff members, undergoing numerous interviews, and then finally being taken to the ward. He had accepted it all, bolstered by Claude's promise, the electronic lock of the ward door nothing but a comfort.
But then the ward door had shut.
Claude was on the wrong side of it.
No, Alois had thought, the realisation dawning as he heard the mechanical lock slide into place, Don't leave me here.
Back then, the patients had been different. The first one who approached him was a stern older boy with glasses, who went off on a seemingly endless stream of rules they all must abide by before he even bothered to give his name. Three other patients soon joined his side, about the same age, all towering over Alois, telling him what he must and mustn't do.
Some other patients approached him. A blond boy with a bad attitude, all fake smiles and fake friendship. He only lingered for as long as the elder boys were watching, then the smiles turned to snarls, and Alois cringed away.
Other patients just watched from a distance. Drocell and Snake, even more self-isolating back then, eyed him mistrustfully from the corner. The feel of their stares had his skin crawling. A little dark-haired girl with ruined feet, two fair-haired brothers that it hurt Alois to even acknowledge, an older Indian woman who lashed out at anyone walking close to her.
Alois kept his distance from them all. He shouldn't have been there. They were mental patients, dangerous, a hazard to everyone. How could Claude have just dumped him in there? How could he just throw him to the wolves like this?
No, it wasn't like that. It was to keep him safe, safe from Trancy's staff who knew his face, safe from the home who always reclaimed available goods. It was only going to be temporary. And then Claude would keep his promise. Someplace safe, someplace together.
It was three weeks before Alois saw Claude again.
By that time, Alois had made himself more enemies than friends. The nasty blond boy had gotten on his last nerve and been punched in the side of the head. That was a violation of the rules - never harm one of our own - so those four older boys had it out for him too. All the others turned away, ignored him entirely.
Alois had never been more alone.
When Claude entered the ward one morning, Alois' heart soared. The hate of the other patients and his fear of the place disappeared instantly. He bounded over to him, face split in a grin, grabbing on to Claude's arm.
'Hello,' Claude greeted, with the same vacant smile, 'How have you settled in?'
Before Alois could answer, Claude looked away, gesturing to the member of staff on the ward. Obediently, the man trudged over.
'Has he left his room at all yet?' Claude asked. There was no elaboration, the topic obviously already familiar between the two of them.
'Nah, not once,' Ronald replied with a shrug, 'Gave him a knock before but, nope, nadda.'
'Go try again,' Claude ordered, something frosty in his voice. The way he was speaking to Ronald, it reminded Alois of the time with the care home manager, 'And if he doesn't answer, then open the door. Don't go in, just open it and leave.'
'Yessir.' Ronald gave a mock salute, not even waiting until he was fully turned around before rolling his eyes. There was no love lost there, clearly.
Alois became aware of the stares he was getting. The other patients were watching him, watching the way he held onto Claude's arm. It only made him cling tighter.
'Where've you been?' Alois asked, voice low.
Claude blinked, as though confused by the question.
'Here.'
'Yeah, I know that, but -'
Across the room, Ronald had received no answer when knocking on one of the bedroom doors. Looking back over at Claude, he shrugged, then pushed the door open. A voice yelled out in anger, not that Ronald paid it any mind, already walking away.
'Excuse me,' Claude said, prying Alois' fingers off his arm.
Alois stared at his retreating back, somehow winded. What was going on?
Claude stopped outside the open bedroom, not stepping in. Alois' feet followed instinctively, stopping close enough to hear but far enough not to be noticed.
The room was brightly lit, the full light on, and inside was generously decorated compared to Alois' own room. There was a bookcase with piles of paperbacks on and around it. Puzzle games and other small toys littered the floor. The bed had a brightly coloured blanket as well as the standard one. The window, high above the bed, had no bars on it and was framed by curtains. There was even a desk, upon which notebooks and even a pencil sat.
And upon the bed sat a boy Alois had never seen before, not once in the three weeks he had been there. The same age as him, or possibly even younger, with messy dark hair and fierce eyes.
'What?!' the boy snapped, glaring over at Claude.
'It's been a month now since you left your room. It's getting a bit excessive, don't you think?' Although the words should have been sharp, Claude's voice was soft, gentle even.
It made something twist in Alois' stomach.
When was the last time he had spoken so gently to him?
'You lot are the experts on excessive,' the boy bit back, not remotely moved by the warmth in Claude's eyes.
Claude changed tactics, leaning his shoulder against the doorway.
'Why exactly won't you come out? Just for a little while. A change of scenery.'
'Oh yes,' the boy crooned, 'Why stare at these four walls when there's another perfectly good four walls out there for me to bash my head against?'
Alois felt his face heat up. Claude was showing the boy such consideration, such kindness. And he just kept throwing it back like it was nothing. Like Claude was nothing.
'We both know you're a bit too fond of yourself to do something like that,' Claude replied, unruffled. If anything, he seemed to find it funny. There was the beginnings of a smile ghosting at his lips, more genuine than anything he had sent Alois' way in months.
The boy didn't dispute that, shrugging. He seemed to consider the conversation over, picking up a Rubik's cube lying on the floor beside his bed and twisting it between his hands.
Alois' anger grew.
Claude was still stood there, expectant. And the boy was full on ignoring him!
But worse still, Claude didn't leave. Why was Claude still standing there, watching, waiting? Why didn't he turn away from the boy and talk to Alois instead, the person who actually wanted to talk to him, wanted to have those same gentle eyes turned towards him?
Why wouldn't Claude look at him?
'So am I safe in assuming that this is about your friend?'
The boy's hands stilled on the toy.
'What friend?' he said after a telling pause, 'I don't have friends.'
'Fellow patient, then,' Claude amended, 'The Kadar boy.'
Rather than deny any association, the boy looked over again, smiling sardonically.
'It's been a month now. Getting a bit excessive, don't you think?'
Alois lost the thread of what they were talking about, having never heard of any Kadar, but that smug little smirk on the boy's face had him curling his hands into fists. He looked so ... superior. It was making Alois sick to the stomach.
'I can only apologise for his absence, but you have to understand, what Kadar has done is beyond perm -'
'Soma wouldn't hurt a fly and you know it,' the boy cut across, eyes flashing with anger. For all that he said he didn't have friends, his eyes betrayed him.
'Kadar was the only one there, Ciel,' Claude insisted gently, the name emphasised, 'And we can't just ignore what he's done.'
The boy, Ciel, threw his legs over the side of the bed, finally facing Claude properly. The toy was held tightly in one fist.
'He didn't.'
'He confessed.'
'A confession given to you means nothing,' Ciel snarled, more than anger in his voice. 'And when he comes ba -'
'If.'
Ciel gritted his teeth, launching the toy across the room. His aim couldn't have been poorer, the thing rattling along the floor a good few steps from where Claude was standing, but the intent to hit Claude, to hurt Claude, pushed Alois over the edge.
Alois didn't remember moving. That haze of red had descended over his eyes again, just like that night with Trancy, and the next thing Alois knew, his fingers were wet and warm. Ciel screamed beneath him, an agonized yell, struggling weakly to dislodge him.
Even before Claude shouted out, a panicked cry of Ciel's name, regret had already wiped away all the anger in Alois. Two fingers buried in Ciel's right eye, he came back to himself, horrified.
This was different than Trancy. Trancy was a loathsome man, who had murdered his brother and then mocked him about it. What Alois had done to him, he had deserved. But this boy? What was his crime? A bad attitude and even worse aim?
Oh god, that was all Alois could think, even as Claude grabbed him off Ciel and threw him to the floor, Oh god.
Chaos descended.
The other patients had come at Ciel's cry, watched with disgust as Ciel was carried from the room, his breathing ragged and his face dripping with blood. Staff arrived like a swarm, trying to bring order, but only making things worse. No one knew what to do with him, Alois realised, Ciel's blood cooling on his fingers. All they could do was stare, keep their distance, close him in Ciel's bedroom until a decision was reached.
Hours passed. He didn't move. All he could think was that maybe Claude had been right to bring him here. What he was capable of, it made him dangerous, a hazard to everyone around him. Had Claude seen that? Was it not for their promise that Claude had brought him here?
When the door opened and Claude was there, Alois' relief was short-lived. Blood on his shirt and nothing in his eyes, he gestured for two identical men to take hold of him. Carrying an arm each, they lifted Alois to his feet and practically dragged him from Ciel's room, through the ward door and along endless identical corridors.
Claude walked a distance ahead, leading the way.
Everything Alois called out to him went ignored.
'I'm sorry.'
'Is he ok?'
'Please look at me.'
'Where are we going?'
'Don't hate me.'
They finally reached a room, the only door at the end of an endless hallway. Claude waited for the three of them to reach him before he unlocked it, letting the heavy iron door swing open.
Claude wouldn't look at him, not even as the two men shoved him through the doorway. The floor was glass, sending him sprawling with a harsh thump, but still Claude wouldn't look his way. Alois cried out to him, crawled forward as the door began to shut, beginning to cry.
'Claude! Please, don't leave me here! Please! You promised!'
Claude didn't look back at him, letting the door close on Alois with a final click.
Ciel breathed deeply, eye patch twisted out of place against the pillow. It was a tidy scar, at least. If you ignored the shiny pink welts running where the eyelids met, that was.
There had been talk of a prosthesis at first. The damage Alois had done had been stitched up in preparation, leaving Ciel with his ruined eye sown closed, the stitches stark black against his skin.
The damage wouldn't have been as bad - or at least, it would have been cleaner - if Alois hadn't caught Ciel just as he blinked. It hadn't just been the flesh of his eye, but also his eyelids that had been savaged by Alois' attack.
So much talk of a prosthesis, but left for so long that the flesh had healed over. By the time the stitches were removed, they would have had to cut Ciel's eyelids apart fresh to give him the illusion of having two eyes.
Alois stared at the scar, so rarely left on display. He couldn't picture Ciel without the eye patch now, but the fact was that he had lived the majority of his life without it. Thirteen years before he had ever known Alois, before that monstrous mutilation borne of petty jealousy. Why Ciel had found it in him to befriend Alois after that, he had never understood.
'For Claude,' Luka answered, perched on the edge of Ciel's bed.
Alois squeezed his eyes shut, tense all over.
He already had Claude, even then.
The answer may have been unspoken, but Luka heard and responded seamlessly.
'Ciel likes games.'
Stop it.
'People are his favourite toys.'
You're wrong. But was he? Ciel was good at playing people. He manipulated them with ease, with practise. It wasn't a natural talent. It was one he had developed. Because he liked it. Because Luka was right.
'Claude's his most favourite,' Luka continued, seeming to grow larger as Alois shrank down in his seat, 'Carrot and stick. Hot and cold. That's the only time Claude comes to me. When Ciel is pretending to be bored or angry with him. And then he gets jealous 'coz Claude is giving me attention instead. So he reels him back in. Over and over and over.'
Alois stared blankly at Ciel, sleeping peacefully, that ugly scar on show.
'That was part of the game too,' Luka insisted heatedly, 'Claude spent all that time away from here, with me. He was so jealous that Claude had found someone else, had brought them back with him. Ciel couldn't stand to see Claude looking at someone else, so he made Claude angry at us, made Claude hate us!'
Alois' hands shook with an anger he couldn't reconcile as his own. Luka's rage infected him, memories twisting, turning dark, turning bitter. Every kindness Ciel had ever shown him, subtle but far from few, mutated into double-edged and self-serving moves in a wicked game.
'- him! - him! - him!'
Luka was screaming those words again, but Alois couldn't see him anymore. His voice was making the walls shake but he wasn't anywhere inside the room.
But no, there wasn't a blank this time. This time it was loud and clear, that desperate order.
'Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!'
Ciel's breath hitched, nose wrinkling as he turned on his side, sleep disturbed slightly by Alois removing the pillow from beneath his head.
The soft wool bunched between Alois' clenched hands.
'Do it!'
For Claude.
'Do it!'
To take back what was rightfully his.
'Do it!'
The only thing he had ever wanted, the only thing that had ever made him feel happy.
'DO IT!'
The pillow hit the far wall with a dull thump. Alois' fists thundered down upon the bedroom door.
'Let me out! Please, let me out, let me out!'
Ciel jolted awake. The eye patch only slipped further out of place as he sat up, looked over to Alois with confusion and alarm.
The scar seemed to twitch, its mangled seam of skin shifting as though the eyeball were still there, fastened away inside Ciel's skull. But watching. Seeing what Alois was doing, seeing what he had almost done.
The pillow coming down to lie over Ciel's face, defenceless in his sleep.
Ciel had seen.
'Let me out!'
There was a flurry of activity outside of the door, the heavy thud of feet, a muffled voice.
'Alois?' Ciel's voice seemed so small. He wasn't going to approach him, Alois realized. He just stayed on the bed, soft with lingering sleep, glancing between Alois and the pillow but refusing to make the link.
Why did he look so sad?
The bedroom door finally opened. Ash was red in the face, the skeleton key to override the electronic locks held tight in his hand. He allowed Alois to run past him, locking the door again.
'Why were you in Phantomhive's room?' Ash demanded.
'Claude.' It was hardly a word, choked out between ragged gasps. 'Claude!'
Ash's stare was as cold and clinical as the office he kept. The minutes dragged on agonizingly slow yet it got no easier for Alois to breathe. It seemed like Ash was going to refuse, but then he strode over towards the ward door, scanning it open.
'I'll have to wake him up. You'll wait in his office.'
Ash left him there, locking Claude's office door behind him.
His heart had yet to stop hammering. He could still feel the soft cotton of the pillowcase against his skin, the heavy glare of Ciel's destroyed eye.
It was too easy to imagine how it would have felt. Ciel wasn't strong, not really. He may have had his moments, terror-driven strength all people possessed, but he wouldn't have been able to overpower Alois.
Holding that pillow down, feeling as Ciel woke up, realized, began to struggle. Nothing left to do then but press down harder, no way to take back what he had already started, until Ciel's legs stopped kicking and the room got that ghostly silence that Trancy's bedroom had once had.
Alois didn't feel any of the usual warning signs before he lurched forward, throwing up on Claude's carpet. He was shaking all over, sweating and cold and frightened and angry, still angry, always angry.
By the time Claude walked into the office, Alois had retreated to the corner of the wall by the door, curled up as small as he could go. The shaking just wouldn't stop, the acrid tang burning at his throat, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.
'What did you do?'
Claude didn't come to him. He wasn't angry. He wasn't anything. He stood behind his desk like this was any other one-to-one therapy session. All that was missing was the clipboard.
But his eyes, they were burning.
'I don't want,' Alois managed between sobs, nails digging into his knees, 'I don't want to!'
'What did you do?' He wasn't angry, but the question was unforgiving. A line had been crossed. One that Alois never realized had been drawn.
'Don't let me do it,' Alois wailed, nails dragging back and forth on his knees until the skin was streaked with raw redness, 'I don't wanna hurt anybody, please!'
Claude took a deep breath. It was the first time Alois had ever seen him have to make himself stay calm. There were sides to Claude Alois hadn't seen, he now realized, and hated himself for never realizing it sooner. Had Ciel seen those sides? No, didn't matter, that didn't matter anymore!
'You tried to harm Ciel, didn't you?' Claude asked, voice soft. If Alois ignored the words, that tone could have sounded almost loving. 'You tried to harm him while he slept.'
Alois let himself nod.
'What did you try to do?'
When had Alois stopped crying? The tears had disappeared. His breath had returned. He had no difficultly when replying, 'I tried to smother him with a pillow, Claude.'
Claude sat down. He wasn't dressed as usual, Alois noticed belatedly. Generic grey sweatpants and a white undershirt. They were dressed the same. They shared a uniform at night.
Claude looked at him sharply. It took Alois a moment to realize it was because he had began to giggle.
'Sorry.'
Slowly, Claude stood and came over to him, carefully stepping around the puddle of sick. He didn't crouch down like he always used to, choosing to loom over Alois instead.
Adults liked to do that, Alois knew.
'I can't say I'm surprised,' Claude said, looking down at Alois blankly, 'This was always going to happen again eventually. I hoped I could help you change, but some people just can't be saved.'
Claude's words ate their way through the apathy his shock had brought upon Alois. They left Claude's mouth and became spiders upon Alois' skin, burrowing their way deep, to the place Claude's kindness had been kept.
'Sometimes, people are just born bad,' Claude continued, merciless, 'It's in their bones, in their minds, in their hearts. But those people are always clever. They always find their own justification. Excuses upon excuses so that they never have to face the consequences of the things they've done.'
Alois looked up at Claude, that mild-mannered hatred tearing away at him. Why couldn't Claude have shouted instead? Why did this loathing come so easily to him that he was as unaffected as ever?
'I'm partly to blame - I believed your excuses, back then. I covered up what you did to Trancy because I thought I could help you,' Claude closed his eyes, the regret etched into every fine line of his face, 'But you're beyond help.'
'Don't -' Alois willed his legs to move, clutching at the fabric of Claude's pants, 'Don't say that. Please. I ... I didn't do it! I stopped myself!'
Claude kicked his leg, shoving Alois off of him.
'And you think you deserve a pat on the back for that?' Claude shook his head, 'For not murdering an innocent person while they slept?'
Alois' mouth worked silently. That wasn't what he'd meant. Claude was twisting his words.
'Luka, Trancy, now Ciel. Look at yourself, Jim. How can you live like this?'
Was it still indifference, or was that genuine disgust on Claude's face?
'I di - I didn't! Trancy deserved it, and -!' Alois crumpled in on himself, unable to look Claude in the eye anymore, 'What happened to Luka wasn't my fault!'
'Wasn't it?' Claude moved away, 'You left him all alone, and then he died. Would he have died if you had been there, Jim? Can you honestly say your choice that day didn't affect what happened to him? Are you really that blind?'
When? Alois curled in on himself, breath caught in his throat and disbelief stemming the flow of tears. When did you start hating me like this? He hadn't even noticed. Had there ever been any love between them? Had it been destroyed the moment Claude had seen him drenched in Trancy's blood, seen just what Alois was capable of? All these years, had Claude felt nothing more than disgust at the sight of him?
Luka.
That day, if Alois had just stayed in the bedroom and waited, then Luka wouldn't have died. There was no two ways about it. A truth that Alois hadn't let himself acknowledge until now. Until Claude left him no other choice.
Luka!
Luka had died because of him. And then he had used Luka's name as an excuse to kill Trancy too. And now he had twisted Luka's memory as an excuse to try to kill Ciel.
Claude was right to be disgusted at the sight of him.
'I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry -'
The apologies died as Claude cupped Alois' face. In an instant, his whole demeanour had changed. He was kneeling now, eye to eye with Alois, his every look and touch gentle. In his free hand was a syringe.
'Maybe I was wrong,' Claude wondered aloud, thumb tracing feather-light over Alois' cheek, 'Maybe you're not beyond help.'
Alois nuzzled into Claude's hand, shaking all over.
'Help me, please,' Alois pleaded, 'Please.'
'You have to make things right, Jim,' Claude said, 'You have to do this yourself.'
Claude pressed the syringe into Alois' hand. It was filled with a neon blue, the familiar Zydrate. But the syringe was full. It was far more than he had ever been given before.
Oh.
'You understand, don't you, Jim?' Claude asked. He pressed Alois' fingers closed around the glass body of the syringe. His hands free now, he took Alois' face and lifted it to his own, their mouths a breath apart. 'This is how you make things right.'
Alois gripped the syringe, the cool glass warming quickly. He was more focused on Claude. His breath fanned across Alois' face, his lips only inches away.
Claude was looking at him, only at him, for the first time in years.
'Will this make things better?' Alois didn't close the distance like he had done back then. It was important that Claude be the one to do it this time. That Claude be the one to make that decisive move. 'Will - Will it hurt?'
Claude smiled, that same smile he used to give Alois. His hands dropped down to steer Alois'. A sleeve rolled back, the syringe positioned, Alois' finger placed over the plunger.
'You won't feel a thing,' Claude promised, resting his forehead against Alois', 'It'll be just like going to sleep.'
Feeling the slight push of Claude's finger over his, Alois swallowed the growing lump in his throat and pressed down on the plunger, until it could go down no further. He didn't watch the Zydrate flow into him, and neither did Claude.
Feeling the sluggishness begin to wash over him, Jim allowed himself one last selfish act, looking into Claude's eyes.
'You ... loved me, didn't you?'
The haze was thickening. His eyelids were far too heavy all of a sudden. He felt himself begin to slump, fought to keep his eyes open, to stay awake long enough to hear the answer.
Claude's fingers stroking the hair away from his face.
Claude's warm breath brushing over his skin.
Claude's lips pressing softly against Jim's.
Everything became touch as the world drifted away.
AN:
TRIGGER WARNING (& SPOILER): references to sexual abuse and mutilation. Suicide. Character death.